


Lucky Number - 7KPP Week 2018

by AwayLaughing



Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: 7KPP Week, Complicated Relationships, Denial, F/F, F/M, Fear, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Illnesses, Loss of Parent(s), Memories, Nostalgia, Philosophy, but only kinda
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:38:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13683717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwayLaughing/pseuds/AwayLaughing
Summary: A collection of fics for 7KPP week.Or, Away trying to force herself to actually post things when she finishes them, this year.





	1. On facing complications and the benefits of communication

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Heart

Yaen slammed the door shut, ignoring the way her heart pounded and the sound of Jirō pounding on the other side.

 

“Yaen, I’m sorry. I was – I’m a little tipsy is all.”

 

 _You’re always a little tipsy_ , she wanted to say but no. They didn’t talk about that, because it was hard. Just like this didn’t talk about _this_ because it was hard. Tears pushed at her eyes for reasons she didn’t fully understand and she swallowed, trying to clear her throat.

 

“You promised,” she said. “You promised you wouldn’t- you lied.”

 

Jirō made a sound of pure despair at her words and she blinked rapidly, willing all of her to just behave a while longer.

 

“Yaen please I _love_ you,” he was pleading now. “It was just a mistake.”

 

The lump in her throat tightened, and she licked her lips only to wince at the taste of wine left on them. _Don’t say that_ , she wanted to say. _If you loved me you would respect me more_ , she thought but did not want to say.

Instead she pushed away from the door, throwing open the window so she could escape into the twilight.

 

On the other side, she heard Jirō ask, “why can’t you just say you love me too?”

 

* * *

 

“Do you ever wonder why we end up like we do?” Yaen asked, not looking Zarad. They were out at the cliffs, enjoying a warm day without much breeze. Zarad was taking advantage of the sun, stretched out like a happy cat, she stayed just under the treeline.

 

She was going to have to get into the habit of parasols, once they were in Corval.

 

“In what way?” he asked. She heard movement in the grass and guessed her was looking up at her.

 

Yaen waved a hand. “Just...why do we like certain foods and not others? Why does one woman love violin music, but not piano?”

 

Zarad hummed. “I think you’re probably more suitable to answering that than me, o educated one.”

 

“Ah yes, the Emperor of Corval no doubts is very lax about his children’s education,” she said. “And my specialty was math and sculptures, not _people_.”

 

Zarad came into her peripheral vision, and she moved over a little so he had more room on her comfortable stretch of grass. He sat gracefully, and despite the fact it was already warm she leaned into him. Just a little, not enough to truly be improper. It was easy to see Jirō in his movements – Jirō was graceful and long limbed himself. Yaen took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, trying to banish the sticky little Jirō-thoughts with it.

 

“You’re not that bad with people,” Zarad said. She tried to give him all her attention, for all her mind niggled her. “But I will humour you, my lady. I would guess that people are made up of several tiny little things, formed through their life by everyone and everything they interact with.”

 

“That doesn’t explain how someone can love something, and not something similar,” she said, giving into the niggle.

 

Zarad shrugged. “The heart is fickle? It’s all dictated by the stars? The Gods tie is with invisible red strings and we cannot love anyone not on the other side?”

 

She huffed a reply at that, finally turning to look at him. He was a very handsome man. This was obvious to anyone who was even the tiniest bit of an aesthete. But Jirō was handsome too – why didn’t _he_ make her heart skip a little when she looked at her out of the corner of her eye and gave a tiny smile?

 

“So you think it’s random?” she guessed.

 

Zarad shook his head. “I think that nothing can be exactly the same as another thing. It stands to reason then that when you fall in love, it’s with an entirety and anything similar that lacks all of that won’t work.” He caught her look at him. “But who knows – my head is full of fluff, ask any of my former tutors.”

 

Yaen shook her head, pressing an out of character kiss to his cheek. “Liar,” she said. Then she braced herself and said, “before I came, I had a friend.”

 

“Just one?” he asked. “Maybe you _are_ that bad with people.”

 

Yaen rolled her eyes, turning back away because it was easier, and because she needed something to be easy right now. And Heavens knew it wasn’t going to be Zarad – reputation or no. “His name was Jirō. You remind me of him.”

 

Zarad was silent for a moment. “I see,” he said. “So _that_ sort of friend, was he?” There was an underlying tension there, and she winced a little, making herself turn back to look at him.

 

“No,” she said. “I loved him, but like a brother, not any other way and I doubt I ever could have. No matter what he wanted.”

 

Zarad’s large dark eyes stayed fixed on her as she spoke. They didn’t dance like usual, and she wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about that. On one hand, he was taking this seriously. On the other, she did not particularly want to make him feel bad. She opened her mouth to speak more, but it wouldn’t make any noise and her mind refused to provide a script. What else was there to say? There had been Jirō and his love and she’d never been able to accept it. Now there was Zarad and his love and her guilt.

 

Gently, Zarad placed his hand along her jaw, fingers sliding into her hair.

 

“You feel you should love him, if you love me?” Relieved he understood, Yaen nodded. He pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek and pulled away again. “Well I cannot say _I_ am upset it turned out this way. I wish I had an answer for you, though.”

 

Yaen sighed and shook her head. “No,” she said. “Maybe there isn’t an answer to be had. And I don’t _regret_ it. I just...wish my friend could be happy.” His arm snaked around her shoulders. She wondered if they’d given Jasper heart palpitations yet – surely he was watching. He didn’t trust Zarad as far as he could throw him. “Tell me more about you tutors,” she said, knowing it was abrupt.

 

Silence for a moment, and then Zarad groaned. “I should have known it would come to this. Some girls fret about house finances, other about estates, and you want to know about my tutors.” He gave an incredibly wistful sigh and look down at her beseechingly. “I have very nice estates – maybe you want to know about those instead?”

 

Yaen couldn’t help but smile. “As if I will let you off that easy,” she said. “Now, at which age did they introduce philosophy?”

 

 


	2. Nothing to fear, except

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michi of Holt is just having an off day is all, it doesn't mean anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Fear

She’d known on some level she was getting sick – Michi might be stubborn but she wasn’t stupid. The first hint came in late morning, when she found herself roped into someone’s pre-lunch tea, and realized she was more grateful to sit down than she was unhappy to be surrounded by gossip about stockings.

 

Stockings – really. Who cared where the seams were? No one was supposed to see them anyway. They didn’t really seem to want her actual imput anyway. They were happier to hear tales of her being naughty – but Arlish naughty not _actual_ naughty. The lady from Corval, at least, seemed to agree with her if the sly looks meant what she thought.

 

That did mean the morning was basically a bust. Michi spent the rest seated in the ballroom, watching people dance and gossip. She danced the few times someone asked her, but she guessed they could sense she was off and mostly left her alone. Cordelia did come by and talk to her a bit – which was surprising because Michi was fairly certain Cordelia thought she was the most disappointing thing to ever come out of Wellin.

 

“I don’t mean to pry,” the princess said as she worked on her embroidery. Michi could see her eyeing one of her countrymen out of the corner of her eye, and wondered at the reason. It was linked to the embroidery, she thought, given the way Cordelia was partly shielding it from view. “But are you feeling well, lady Michaela?”

 

“Come on, even you could settle for Lady Michi, no?” Michi said, grinning to show she was teasing. “And uh, pretty much. Didn’t sleep too well last week cause of all the trial stuff though.”

 

“Oh, yes of course,” Cordelia said. “You did very well, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

 

“I never mind compliments from pretty girls,” Michi said, just to see the princess blush. She did, and it was cute. If only Michi could get her _own_ princess to blush.

 

She’d find something to get Ana to go pink, eventually. Even if she had to sneak to do it. Sneaking was okay if it was reconassaince. Which reminded her.

 

“Hey Cordelia, is your cousin busy this week?”

 

“Hamin?” Cordelia asked, looking a little taken aback at the question. “I doubt he’s busy with anything important?”

 

What went unspoken was her wondering why Michi wanted her hooligan of a cousin. Never mind Michi _liked_ hooligans – she had to, else she wouldn’t like herself much.

 

“I’ve got a problem that needs a sneak,” Michi admitted. “I’m um. Not that.”

 

Her nurse used to say she was as subtle as a mad bull.

 

“Oh,” Cordelia said, looking what some would probably call put off. “I can ask if you’d like?”

 

Michi waved her hand. “Nah, if you don’t know already than it’s not any less work to just ask him myself.” She stood. “Any idea where he is, now?”

 

“I’m afraid not. You could try the docks?”

 

Michi offered a wide grin she wasn’t really feeling. “Will do, thanks Cordelia.”

 

“Of course lady Michaela.”

 

Michi held back a sigh at the addess, but only so it might encourage Cordelia to stop using it in the future. Somehow.

 

 

She didn’t find Hamin, because she was waylaid in the hall by the Corvali delegate from the tea party.

 

“Lady Michaela,” the woman said, somehow hooking their arms without Michi even knowing it was happening. “I wanted the chance to finally meet someone who has been such an unforeseen delight over these past weeks. I am lady Namli, in case you missed it in the chaos of the tea this morning.”

 

“Oh yes, the chaos,” Michi said. “Very hectic, those Arlish teas.”

 

Namli laughed, tossing back her head. It made her veil flutter. It was a very pretty blue. Michi wondered what it was called.

 

“You are a delight,” she said, then she sighed. “Such a shame you were not lord Blain’s type.”

 

“Ugh,” Michi said, recoiling a bit.

 

“Or that he were yours,” Namli added, smiling slightly. She was _very_ pretty, Michi was slowly realizing. Dark eyes, rimmed in...what was it? Kohl yeah, to look like a cat almost, and her mouth painted red. It made her skin look almost golden – and Michi was startled to find she didn’t really care. Pretty girls were nice – but they weren’t Ana. “Anyway – let’s not speak of anything unpleasant. Will you lunch with me?”

 

Michi still needed to find Hamin – but she reasoned he seemed to like food and didn’t usually skip meals like Lyon or Zarad did.

 

“Sure,” she said.

 

* * *

 

 

Lunch turned out to be only okay. Namli ended up distracted by a very shiny Jiyeli delegate with a patchy beard. It meant she was left seated next to another Wellish delegate she didn’t want to talk to. The highlight was having Gisette across from her. Apparently Michi was looking bad enough for Gisette to mention it. This on one hand didn’t bode well for her, but did mean she got to be rude and claim provocation.

 

If nothing else, it distracted her from the queasy feeling in her stomach. And if she excused herself early and let everyone think it was because of Gisette somehow, than whatever. She didn’t want to be compared to Princess Murderpants anyway.

 

Admittedly, she didn’t remember much about after lunch. She tried to study some, but if she managed it she didn’t recall. The day ended without dinner – Jasper found her dozing and sent her to bed.

 

“I’ll be fine in the morning,” she said.

 

“I’m sure, my lady.”

 

 

She was not better in the morning. In fact, she woke up only briefly at one point, with Ria applying a wet cloth to her forehead.

 

“My lady, the physician says you’ll be right as rain soon,” Ria told her. “Just sleep it off.”

 

“Mkay,” Michi said.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days passed, and she wasn’t better. She kept waking up find people there – Ria, Sayra, Jasper, but also Ana and Emmett and even Clarmont. Clarmont! He never ever visited her in her rooms.

 

Clearly, they were taking this all too seriously, she decided. She was awake now, wasn’t she? So what if she was a little warm – the solution was fewer blankets not more.

 

Which is why she took it upon herself to go for a walk. She did take a shawl – she wasn’t dumb. She decided the gardens weren’t right – and maybe the flowers would be bad for her lungs or something – so she decided on the walk Emmett had taken her on. It wasn’t much work, and the air would be even fresher.

 

She wasn’t avoiding people. No siree.

 

By the time she reached the forest edge though, she was panting and sweating. Refusing to quit, she grit her teeth. She could do this, she didn’t need to stay in dark stuffy room while people fretted over her. She just...needed to sit. Yes. And the universe agreed with her and left a log for her. She sat on, ignoring the way the world went woozy, and closed her eyes.

 

Just for a minute. Nothing longer...

 

Ana yelling “there you are!” jerked her wide awake. “Michi,” Ana said, coming up to her. “You have been missing long time – wandering off! You gave fret-fretty shadow man many bad feelings! And me!”

 

“Ana too loud,” Michi said, burying her head in her hands. “And I didn’t wander. I needed air.”

 

“There is air in rooms,” Ana said, plopping down next to her.

 

“No there isn’t” Michi said. “The rooms are always hot and full of fretty people and it’s sticky and stinky.”

 

Ana sniffed. “Fret-fretty shadow man would not let you have stinky air,” she said. “He is too picky clean.”

 

Michi wanted to argue – but Jasper was fastidious. Really fastidious. “I don’t care,” she said sullenly. The very idea of going back made her stomach flip. “I _hate_ sick rooms.” Ana was quiet for a moment, and then pulled her into a one armed hug. “Ana no – you could get sick.”

 

“I am never sick,” Ana said. “It is from being outside always. And you do not have sick room, it is just room where you live.”

 

Michi shook her head, cuddling closer though it seemed a bad idea. “No,” she said again. “You get stuck there. And then you get more stuck and you never leave the bed and you get pale and skinny and then you _die_ and I _won’t do it. I won’t._ I won’t turn into a ghost and just go away in bits until there’s nothing.”

 

Ana was silent for a moment, enough that Michi poked her to make sure she was paying attention. Ana caught her finger.

 

“You have seen this?” Ana said. Michi winced. “My Michi is not scared of crazy horses and spiky cliffs, but she is scared of this. Of becoming lost little bits.”

 

“I’m not scared,” Michi said. “I’m...” well she was scared.

 

“It is okay to have fear,” Ana said. “I fear many things. Stinky men stealing pretty Michi. Snakes with sneaky poison bite. Birds who eye-peck.”

 

Michi blinked. “Are there eye-pecking birds in Skalt?”

 

Ana scowled. “All birds will eye-peck if you are not watchful.”

 

“Oh,” Michi said.

 

“Birds is not the point – the point is no matter how many pointy things you own, there are things to fear. Loosing little bits is scarier because you cannot poke killing-illness with sword to make it stop.” Michi nodded despite herself. Ana gave her another squeeze. “Still, you will come back with me? I will not let your room turn sick.”

 

“Promise?” Michi asked.

 

“I promise on my best sword,” Ana said. “And on _you_.”

 

“Well alright then,” she said. She tried to stand, but the world went _ooee_. “Um,” she said to Ana. Ana laughed and helped her up.

 

“Ah pretty Michi is feeling flimsy,” she teased lightly. “Come, there will be no flimsy in bed.”

 

“Yeah,” Michi agreed. They set back down the path she’d come – and she took a moment to wonder how it’d gotten longer and further from the castle? Weird. “Ana I-I’ll tell you about...it later, alright?”

 

“When you are better, yes.” Ana said. “And only if you want.”

 

“I do,” Michi said, slumping a little. “Just later is all.”

 

“It can be as many laters as you want,” Ana said. Then she scooped Michi right up. “But let us get to bed faster, hm?”

 

Michi giggled even as the world tilted again. “Alright,” she said. “Only because it’s romantic.”

 

Ana gave her a very pleased grin. “Only because that,” she agreed. Michi nodded and rested her head on Ana’s shoulder. Her eyes slipped shut, and her last thought was that she thought Ana’s armour would be pokier.


	3. transitive things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noa's mother is dead. What more can she say than that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Dawn/Midnight

Noa sat on the pier and stared out at the ocean. Behind her was the bustle of the port, a long ways away. She realized on some level she must have been out here for hours, based on the stiffness of her fingers from the ocean breeze, but it didn’t matter. She was uncomfortable enough to pierce the fog that had settled over the last few days.

 

Her mother was dead, one of the hundreds, if not thousands, of people lost at sea over the years. Just another name on a headstone in an empty grave, like the many, many others dotting Hise. Noa curled her fingers at the thought, relishing in the stiff discomfort. She didn’t stop even when someone sat down beside her. Only stopped when a hand, gold bleached white in the moonlight, slipped into hers and squeezed lightly.

 

Hisa didn’t say anything though, and Noa was thankful. It was not usual that she was without words, but what was there to say? She’d always thought, in a silly little girl way, that her mother was invicible. How could the great Captain Blackthorn ever fall? She’d survived the worst hurricane on record at age 17. She’d once duped half the Arlish armada into turning and fleeing from just two boats. She was impossibly smart, improbably lucky and insanely brave.

 

Women like that didn’t die – because they only existed in stories, where her mother had the poor luck of being real.

 

And now her father, her poor sweet _gentle_ father, was languishing away. He’d been sick when mother left, and now she wasn’t ever coming back and he was crushed. Noa didn’t know yet if she was enough to keep him here.

 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she said, finally breaking the silence.

 

“I know,” Hisa said. “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say.”

 

“I guess you’re supposed to say you’re sorry,” Noa said, still feeling a bit detached from it all. “But what would you be sorry for?”

 

“That you’ve lost someone so dear, I guess,” Hisa said. “Sorry doesn’t seem the word for it, really.”

 

Noa chuckled, a flat unhappy sound that didn’t deserve the name and pulled away a little. She didn’t say anything more, nor did Hisa. Behind them, the clamour of the city got a little louder. Noa studied the sky – saw the smudges of green that meant the sun was commencing it’s daily climb. She wondered how it did it. How did someone one or something slog through the same repetitive task, never changing, no reprieve, no end of your duty in sight. Then she wondered if that’s how she would start to view the world, now that the shining star that was her mother was gone.

 

She realized too she was feeling an odd sort of resentment. How dare the heavens move? Blackthorn was dead. And that meant something – so why was the world ignoring it?

 

“Hisa,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind but I’d like to be alone again, just for a bit.”

 

Hisa’s only response was to kiss her cheek, and then she was gone in a rustle of clothing. Noa tried to fall back into the meditative state that had apparently carried her through the night, but it didn’t come. Instead she kept thinking about the sun and it’s pointless foreverness. It was the pointlessness that got to her, actually. Or the pointlessness that gave her an excuse to hunch over and cry into her hands until she was breathless.

 

By the time she finished and caught her breath, the sun had firmly asserted its dominance, though it was not yet bright enough it hurt to look at. Noa watched it, a little transfixed and admittedly over focusing to ignore the maelstrom going on inside her. Because her mother was dead. The light of her father’s life was dead; her guiding star. It didn’t seem fair really, that she was left to try and figure it out, while the world turned.

 

Because her mother was dead and still the sun rose. And so, not seeing much choice, Noa stretched heavy limbs, and rose too.

 

 


	4. Passé imparfait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memory is a funny thing. Mostly because it lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - Nostalgia

Aurora let the last of the guests out, pressing kisses to the countess’ wine flushed cheeks and promising to get together again before Lady Darmine’s salon. They wouldn’t of course, but it was the idle promises that counted here. Idle, because true promises were more dangerous than knives. Life in the capital was like that, Aurora found. Ulyss had told her of course, but until his death, she’d never _known_.

 

She’d known very little, really, until he’d died and she’d come here.

 

“My lady,” Dulia said, appearing at her elbow. “You may close the door now.”

 

“I was looking for fresh air,” Aurora said, taking another moment and stepping away.

 

Dulia smiled blandly. “You left that behind in Namaire, I’m afraid,” she said. “Are you still set to go to the opera with Lord Cameron tonight?”

 

“Of course,” Aurora said. “I will, I think, take a nap before that. I would hate to doze in his presence.”

 

“Too right, my lady,” Dulia said and promptly left her to herself. Which Aurora preferred. Doting staff were not something she’d adjusted to, not even after years of marriage to a baron. Everything else she could take in stride – but not the hovering. Letting herself into her rooms, Aurora considered why that was.

 

Probably much the same reason she detested large beds, she thought as she collapsed into position. Her corset meant it wasn’t terribly comfortable, but the point wasn’t sleep. It was just rest.

 

There had never been any rest in Girache. There was always something to do, even when she was young. Helping mother in the kitchen, helping clean up in the barn. Helping Roy finish his chores, tie his shoes, get dressed, eat. And then every little sibling after him. She’d shared a bed with them too, until it was decided the boys could have their own. Realistically, it just became a bigger bed, two mattresses pushed together. It had seemed hell itself at the time.

 

And now, how funny was it, that she yearned for it? Yearned for the tiny house and the fresh baked bread – made first rather poorly by Estelle, then herself and then finally by Roy, for whom it came easiest of the three of them. Yearned for the goats and the chickens pecking at the ground.

 

For spring that was a little sturdier, and where people who came to the door cared about you.

 

Except, Aurora realized, she’d never really had those things. People who came to the door at Girache had, more often than not it seemed, not cared at all she was hungry and simply wanted their money. Time and distance had a strange way of making the past better, she realized. It coaxed hunger from memories, warmed forever-frozen fingers and toes. Sighing, she rolled over, trying to find a more comfortable position. That at least was the same then and now. Before, it had been trying to work around knobby knees and elbows. Now it was working around boning and stiff linen. When comfort didn’t come, she gave up.

 

Clearly, if she was going to get the rest she did truly need to avoid insulting anyone, she would need to embrace the hovering. The past, no matter how idealized, was not going to undo her lacing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this would be the perfect prompt for Aurora and then realized she is incredibly unsentimental. So this ended up very short, but one can only read so much pure introspection.


	5. "oh but it's nice to finally meet you" said the familiar face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting the family is usually reserved for people marrying in - but Pippa's family is a bit unlike others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Family

Hadi was like a magical creature to Pippa. Not only was he completely unlike anyone at court, but he was an uncle. She’d known of course she had her mother’s family, out there in the desert, but the reality was so different.

 

“If you keep staring at me,” he told her as they crested a dune, “I am going to start thinking there’s something on my face.”

 

“I’ve just never had an uncle before,” she told him. Hadi grinned.

 

“I’ve always been your uncle, you just hadn’t met me.”

 

“I had an uncle in theory, not in practice,” she said. Her sciences tutor was forever going on about _theory_ versus _practice_. She did not have a much love for it, honestly but mama would not allow poor grades and so she tried to pay attention. And at least it was a little useful.

 

Hadi’s mouth, already in a wide smile, twitched a little wider. “Fair enough,” he said. “You’re in for quite a surprise then.”

 

Pippa didn’t question him on that. She knew from her mother there were more uncles, and at least two had been wed when her mother left. Hadi hadn’t existed then, so she could only imagine how much was different.

 

“My lady?” Pippa turned to the prince, a little surprised. He was not very talkative, and she didn’t think princes had much use for low ranking ladies.

 

“Yes your highness,” she said, trying not to look confused.

 

“I could not help but overhear,” he said. Which was fair, he probably couldn’t have, short of sticking his fingers in his ears. “You have never met your family, I’ve gathered?”

 

“No your highness,” she said. “I was born in the inner court.”

 

“Ah,” he said. It seemed to be enough for him, because he turned back to looking out over the desert. To her eyes, it was a lot of sand that all looked the same. Hadi caught her eye again.

 

“We’re almost there,” he said. She cocked her head.

 

“How can you know?”

 

* * *

 

 

The Inner Court did not have a good grasp of reality. That is what Jessa was forever saying, and while Pippa could admit maybe she knew even less of reality than most, she was inclined to agree. For one, they thought the city was brimming with villains, ready to jump anyone who walked by. It wasn’t true – she’d never been jumped on any of her excursions. It wasn’t safe, maybe but was anywhere?

 

The Inner Court also had an image of the desert-men. Desperate and poor, dressed in rags and doing all sorts of things to survive. Pippa was deemed to young to know what sorts of things those were, but she could take a wild guess. And either way, it was obvious they were wrong. The sea of tents they encountered, after cresting yet another dune-like-all-the-other-dunes was anything but raggity. They were brightly coloured, as were the people walking between them. Most of them were dressed in the same vibrant yellow-orange as the sashes Hadi wore.

 

“Hadi, what’s that colour?” she asked, eyes trying to take everything in. A few people were looking at them now, some pointing, and others hurrying into tents. To gossip, she guessed, which wasn’t much different from what went on at home.

 

“Hmm, oh this one?” he plucked the sash around his waist. “Saffron. It grows in the mountains, on little flowers I’m told.”

 

“You’ve never been to the mountains?” she asked.

 

He laughed and shook his head. “No, I’ve failed to notice the flowers, though.”

 

Her mother huffed slightly. “They grow in valleys, and are usually jealously guarded.” She turned to Pippa, “Some people call it Corvali gold. It’s very expensive.”

 

Pippa nodded, considering. Saffron rice was not particularly rare at home, studded with fruits and nuts it was a common side. She didn’t think she saw the dye often, though. “So how is there so much here?”

 

“We own one of the saffron farms,” Hadi said. “A great-great grandmother was the daughter of a Revairin count who owned the land. Her father died when she was very young, with no family and so she had it all to herself. When the border shifted, they became Corvali but she had no allies anymore.”

 

“So she married thrice great grandfather,” Pippa guessed. “Or did he marry her?”

 

Hadi raised and eyebrow while mama gave her an approving smile. “She married him,” she said. Hadi still looked like he wondered at the difference – because he was a man. No one made princes get married. Prince Soheil didn’t even have to go to the Summit with prince Aamir, and Prince Zarad had already made everyone agree not to even mention the word until he went to his own Summit. “And it was quite the gift to us, it’s what allowed us to remain as we are.”

 

But not entirely, Pippa realized. Mama allowed it too, by becoming part of the court. It wasn’t the sort of thing you ever admitted to though. It was too close to a weakness.

 

“Hadi,” prince Soheil said, garnering her uncle’s attention. “Is there a chance you’ll introduce me to your guard, before we head in?”

 

“Oh, of course,” Hadi said. “Roshan, Pippa is you’ll excuse me? Lilkay will take you down.”

 

They both assented, and Hadi and the prince, as well as four more of their guard disappeared. That left two of the tribe’s guides, and two of the imperial ones. The one she assumed was Lilkay pulled up to the front and turned so he was overlooking them all.

 

Then he grinned. “Now with mother Hadi away we can take a more expedient route, no?” the other guards all started to nod, and Pippa noticed her mother eyeing her. She was too well trained to pull a face, but she did sit a little taller. Or as tall as she could.

 

She wasn’t a good rider but so long as there weren’t any surprises she was fine. Finally her mother smiled a little.

 

“Well, since you’re leading the way,” mama said. He nodded, clearly pleased and Pippa braced herself to try and not look like a fool. Though Lady Kyura said being thought the fool wasn’t so bad, so long as you weren’t one. She said there was power in being under estimated. Pippa supposed then, she was likely going to become very powerful.

 

The younger guard came up beside her as they started the steep descent down the dune. Carefully, he reached over and took her horse’s reigns.

 

“I mostly ride in the city,” he said, “I hope you don’t mind helping me down.”

 

Pippa smiled, and tried not to giggle. “If you insist,” she said. He winked – and then they were on the way down.

 

* * *

 

 

They made it down without dying, and their reward was greetings from the whole village. Pippa, once against next to her mother looked over to her, and found she was smiling widely.

 

At the front of the whole group were three women, all grinning widely. Her mother looked a bit confused by them, but once they came to a stop and they were down, her face went back to the happy smile.

 

“Aunt Roshan,” the shortest of the three said. “It is our highest honour to welcome you back into our arms.”

 

“You must be Gancan and Eut’s girls,” she said. The three nodded, looking pleased. To Pippa she said, “Eut is my eldest brother, Gancan my eldest sister, through their marriage.” She puts her hand on Pippa’s back, pulling her forward. “This is my daughter, Pippa.”

 

Pippa curtsies to them, because that’s what she’s always had to do. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

 

Immediately another girl, younger, swoops down on them. She’s probably a year or two Pippa’s own age. “I am Ecun,” she says, trying to copy Pippa’s curtsy. “Daughter of Devos.”

  
Devos, Pippa knew, was her mother’s younger brother, by only a few months. She knew all the siblings by name, of which there were many. The idea of learning all their wives and daughters and sons was...

 

An exciting challenge. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ecun,” she said. She eyed her mother, in deep talks with a woman who was probably Gancan. She would be heading to the funeral tent soon, she knew. Pippa herself wasn’t old enough, apparently. “Ecun, is there any chance you can introduce me?”

 

“To who?” Ecun asked. Pippa smiled wider.

 

“Everyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was gonna be more but I am. So tired.


End file.
